


Phil's Kids

by pherryt



Series: New Clint Barton Bingo [12]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Caretaker!Bucky, Fluff, Foster families, Found Families, Gen, Highschool AU, Mentions of past abuse, Trust Issues, deaf!Clint, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Phil's already got a full house, so Bucky didn't think Steve was right when he mentioned another kid coming to stay with them, but that's okay, Clint keeps saying he's going to leave. Bucky doesn't think that's true.
Series: New Clint Barton Bingo [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540606
Comments: 39
Kudos: 107
Collections: Clint Barton Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Today is the last day to submit anything and i'm playing the 24 hour GISH Lite today - i am going to submit this as a 3 chapter starter and possibly make a series of different segments of the story? Still not sure. i've been trying to get a section finished enough to post before the deadline *Cries*
> 
> Clint Barton Bingo square: N2 - HIghschool AU - i think this gets me 2 bingos at once! Sweet :D

“Pssst.”

Bucky groaned and rolled over. The sound persisted. Either the house had sprung a leak, or Steve Rogers was once more hanging upside down off the top bunk trying to get his attention.

“Pssst, Bucky.”

Bucky pulled his pillow over his head. “Leave me alone, punk,” he mumbled.

“I knew you were awake.”

“I wasn’t.”

Steve dropped down from the top bunk quietly and crawled into Bucky’s bed. “Guess what I heard?”

“You're gonna tell me whether I want to hear it or not, aren’t you?”

“Phil’s getting another kid,” Steve said.

That made Bucky frown.

“There’s no more room,” Bucky protested. He went to sit up and had to duck to keep from hitting his head. He'd hit a growth spurt in the last few months and he kept forgetting. “You and me share a room already. Sam shares with Pietro, and Nat’s got Wanda.”

Steve shrugged. “He’ll find a way.”

Bucky shoved Steve off the bed.

“You’re making shit up. Go to bed, Steve.”

“I heard him talking to Fury on the phone. I'm not lying Bucky!” 

“Then maybe you misheard. Go to bed. We have a test in the morning.”

* * *

Steve hadn’t misheard.

Bucky stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs. He’d come down just in time to catch the door opening and Fury ushering in a tall, gangly blonde covered in bruises and a surly expression that went a long way to covering just how scared and uncomfortable he really was.

“Good morning, James,” Fury said. “Meet your new housemate. This is Clint.” He turned to Phil. “Let me know if you have any issues. I need to go deal with the rest.”

Clint’s shoulders hunched in and he pulled the bag over his shoulder tighter, his mouth white lipped. He didn’t say a word. Not in greeting or in protest as Fury left, closing the door behind him.

Steve joined Bucky at the bottom of the stairs. “The rest?” he murmured to Bucky. Bucky shrugged. 

“Well, come on, boys, time for breakfast,” Phil said, “You too, Clint.”

The kitchen was fairly large, but with Phil, and what was now 7 teens of various ages and sizes, it always felt extremely small to Bucky. The twins were already there, as were Nat and Sam, and they all looked up curiously when Bucky and the others entered.

“Who’s the new kid?” Pietro asked.

“This is Clint,” Phil said, dropping a hand on Clint's shoulder briefly. The kid didn’t flinch. He froze, eyes going wide. With the bruises he was sporting, his reaction was as telling as if he _had_ flinched. Other kids had come and gone over the years since Bucky and Steve had come to live with Phil, and some of them had been abused. He'd learned to notice these things. 

So had Steve. They exchanged concerned looks. 

Phil’s hand pulled away, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t noticed just the same things Bucky and Steve had, but they knew better. 

Phil noticed _everything._ It was one of the reasons he was a good foster parent. His endless patience and genuine good intentions were just a few of the other reasons.

And he seemed to have a knack with some of the more difficult cases Fury brought him.

But still…

 _Seven_ kids? 

This was going to be a disaster, wasn’t it?

Phil went on, introducing everyone, coaxing Clint to sit beside Nat and across from Steve before turning to finish making breakfast.

Most kids, Bucky knew, didn’t get anything fancy in the morning. Cereal and oatmeal were normal. Not Phil, though. Since he worked from home, he had more than enough time to spare for eggs and toast, or pancakes and waffles. Or maybe some corned beef hash and bacon. He insisted on a solid breakfast before school, to encourage learning. 

“Who can concentrate on an empty stomach?” he’d say. “I know I can’t, so why should I expect you to?”

With this many people, that was a lot of food to make, though. Everyone had chores, and today it was Wanda’s turn to help with breakfast. Sam was making lunches on the side, and it would be Steve’s turn to help with dinner.

Breakfast was a noisy affair, as was usual. Bucky hated it, but at the same time it was comforting. Pietro shot off a million and one questions at Clint, Clint looking like a deer caught in headlights and not answering a single one, before Phil shut him down, reminding Pietro to give Clint space on his first day.

As breakfast wound down and the table cleared away, Phil cleared his throat.

“Most of you have been with me long enough to know the drill. This is what’s going to happen. Clint will stay home with me today as we get him situated here. I’ll enroll him as soon as I'm able and then he’ll join you for school. No badgering him - “ Phil stared at Pietro, then Steve and Bucky snorted. “Let him adjust to life here first. Now, get going. You don’t want to be late. I know some of you have a test today,” Phil said, ushering them gently out of the kitchen, remaining behind with the new kid.

Steve lingered and Bucky grabbed his arm and rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, Stevie, kid won’t want an audience. Let’s get ready for school.”

* * *

Phil’s kids were not the talk of the school, _exactly_ , but they were well known by pretty much everyone. Most of them stuck together where they could, even though they could and did make friends outside of their circle. Bucky had often heard it remarked on by the teachers at how _solid_ they were as a group, usually said in tones of bewilderment. Bucky took it that it wasn’t the usual state of affairs in foster homes.

The other reason they were well known by everyone was that a good chunk of them tended to get into trouble more often than not.

Most of all, Bucky, because he wound up being the de facto watchdog to trying to _keep_ the others out of trouble.

It was a hard and thankless job, and not one Phil had asked of him, but one he’d appointed of himself.

The twins were the youngest, at 14. Sam and Nat were both 15, Steve was 16 and Bucky was 17, all of them old enough to attend highschool together.

The new kid was anybody’s guess, but he was more than old enough for highschool, whatever his age was, and Bucky was sure that no matter where Clint’s age actually fell, he’d have somebody to pal around with.

If he was the paling around type.

Steve wouldn’t shut up about him as they rode the bus in. “Where do you think he came from? What others? He looks like he could use a friend, don’t ya think? Do you think he gets into fights or he got those bruises elsewhere?”

“You can’t be everybody’s friend, Rogers,” Bucky said tiredly, leaning his head against the glass. That was untrue. Steve befriended _everybody_. Except for the bullies. But Bucky wasn't sure he wasn’t trying to anyway, to see if he could convert them or something.

Bucky didn't see that working but if anybody could do it, it would be Steve ‘Stubborn’ Rogers.

They split once they reached the school, meeting up only for lunch or gym. No word of problems or rumors reached Bucky’s ears and the day passed without a hitch, for once.

If he’d thought Steve was excited on the way _to_ school, it was nothing to the near quivering excitement of him now.

And he had Tony, Thor, Rhodey, Pepper and Scott in tow.

Great.

“Steve, what are you thinking? Our house is going to be overwhelming enough as it is, and you’re bringing more people back with us?”

“What? It’s _Friday_ , Buck, they always come back with us after school. It’s game night. How could we say no? It’d be a little late to cancel day of without a good reason.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Disaster. This was going to be an absolute disaster. He was sure of it.

* * *

Bucky wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Clint was nowhere to be found when they got back. 11 kids strong trooped into the kitchen and Bucky figured wherever Clint had gone off to, it had been a smart idea before he was descended upon.

Grabbing a snack and a drink, Bucky grabbed his bookbag and abandoned the others for the room he shared with Steve.

“Where you going terminator?”

Bucky flipped Tony off. “Away from you, Stark.”

He heard Steve as he bounded up the stairs telling Tony to leave him alone. “Y’know he needs some space sometimes. Leave him alone.”

Tony’s answer was lost when Bucky hit the top of the stairs. There were 5 doors in the hall; the one on the landing was the bathroom. The one at the end was Phil’s, the one between Phil’s and the bathroom was the girls and the two on the other wall were Sam and Pietro’s, Bucky and Steve’s, respectively.

They weren’t big, but the bunk beds helped to maximize the space. 

He froze when he opened the door to find a cot set up across from the bunks and the new kid sat on it against the wall. He didn’t seem to have heard Bucky come in, fiddling as he was with something in his hands.

Oh no, Phil wasn’t serious, was he? The room was small enough as it was.

Bucky sighed, shutting the door behind him and dropping his bag next to his bed with a thunk and a “Hey,” to be polite.

Clint jumped, jerking sideways and staring at him with the same wide eyes from that morning.

"Sorry," Bucky said, dropping down onto his bunk. "Didn't mean to scare ya."

Clint frowned and shook his head. 

"Phil's not a bad guy, y'know? Stevie and I have been here a while. He's the real deal."

“Doesn’t matter,” Clint mumbled. “Ain’t stayin’.”

“Where are you going to go?” Bucky asked slowly.

Clint frowned. “Like I’d tell you, so you could snitch.”

Bucky shrugged, rubbing at his arm. It was aching pretty bad today. “Not a snitch, and it’s your life. Do whatever you want. But you might want to give this place a chance first.”

The other kid turned away from Bucky and curled up under the blankets of the cot. That was all right. Some of the kids had trust issues when they came here. Wherever they’d come from before – bad family situation, previous foster families that were a little less than stellar (or a lot less than stellar – Wanda and Pietro’s had been _bad)_ – it took a while for them to come around, but they usually did.

Eventually.

This was just the first day. Bucky knew better than to expect Clint to break out in sunshine, kitten and rainbow smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint stared at the ceiling of the room he was sharing with two of the other boys. He hadn’t bothered to remember their names. He’d be leaving soon anyway.

The past few days had been a rollercoaster of events – and not the good kind of rollercoaster either.

How could the circus have betrayed him like that? His _brother?_

No, his brother hadn’t don’t that. Barney _wouldn’t._

He rolled himself under the blankets into a cocoon. The cot was actually pretty comfortable, though Phil had apologized for it, promising something better as soon as possible. And the blankets were thick and warm, warmer than the threadbare thing he’d had in the circus trailer he’d shared with Barney.

Maybe he should give this place a chance, like that other kid had said?

He jolted, then froze when the floor shook lightly. Clint eased back the covers to peak out, finding the smaller roommate crouching beside the bottom bunk. Clint couldn’t hear anything; they must be whispering. What was going on?

Tensing, Clint didn’t take his eyes off the pair. A sliver of light fell on them and he stopped breathing, eyes flicking to the door that had opened. Phil stood there and Clint’s fingers flexed on the blanket, ready to split and run.

Clint’s eyes followed Phil through the door to the bunkbed where he crouched beside the smaller kid. Clint’s hearing was fucking with him, as usual, so he only caught snippets of what Phil said, and the angle and light wasn’t enough for him to supplement as he usually did.

“- ting worse?”

Whatever was said was lost but then Phil moved, and Clint watched him warily, but he was only helping the other kid sit up. The kid was grimacing, pain clear on his face as he rubbed at his left arm. The first kid, the smaller one, hovered, biting his lip.

“ – see Doc – morning,” Phil said.

The long haired kid nodded, hunching in on himself and cradling his arm. The other kid leapt up suddenly and dashed out of the room. He returned a couple minutes later with a bottle of water and opening it. Clint continued to watch as the long haired kid took the bottle and a couple of pills, Phil speaking too quietly the whole time for Clint to hear.

Eventually, whatever drama was going on died down and Phil disappeared. The other two kids settled back in, the blonde climbing back up into his bunk while the other adjusted his bed to sit and read by a book light.

Clint stared at him, unseen in his cocoon and grudgingly admitted the kid was kinda good looking. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t staying long. Barney would come back for him.

* * *

Clint didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, the room was empty. He unwrapped himself from the blankets reluctantly, his stomach growling. He hadn’t gone down to dinner the night before, afraid to face all those strangers, nosy ass strangers.

Well meaning, friendly, incomprehensible strangers.

The chaos from breakfast the day before was not something he was looking forward to, the blur of noise that became unbearable quickly, Clint unable to follow the threads of conversation. At least at the circus, nobody expected him too. The loudspeaker was loud enough to cut over the crowd and give Clint his cues, and he worked one on one or alone so it never really mattered how much he could hear or not. He'd learned to work around it, and everybody in the circus had known anyway.

These people didn’t. And he didn’t want them to know, either. It could be a weakness they’d exploit somehow. 

With a sigh, he swung his legs off the cot and stood up, stretching. 

Time to go and face the music.

He padded cautiously down the stairs, wincing at the wall of shapeless and muted noise coming from the kitchen. Poking his head in, he noticed that his roommates and Phil were missing. The other four kids were there, though.

Unlike the day before, breakfast hadn’t been made, and it looked like every man for himself, with various boxes of cereal arranged on the table and one of the red head girls manning the toaster.

“-” the silver haired kid piped up when his eyes lit on Clint, but whatever he said was muffled and distorted by a mouthful of cereal. Clint shrugged at him, and looked away. Despite talking to the long-haired kid last night, Clint was resolved not to say a single other word his whole stay here. He was pretty sure he could get away with it too. Wasn’t like he’d be staying long, anyway.

“That -,” the other red head said, pointing at a cabinet. Clint followed her finger and pulled out a bowl, then a spoon, pouring himself a bowl of the first cereal he could reach. He wasn’t picky. Food was food.

“Do - talk?” the darker skinned kid asked. “I - is okay if - not a - just curi -s.”

Clint looked away and shoveled the spoon into his mouth. If his mouth was full, they wouldn’t expect an answer.

The avoidance tactic only went so far, but he found an unexpected ally in one of the redheads who looked at him too shrewdly for his liking. She ushered the others out of the kitchen as they finished, despite protests, till they were the only ones left.

The cessation of general chatter made it easier to hear her as she spoke to him and Clint relaxed a little. One on one, like with Phil, yesterday, that he could do.

He still wasn’t gonna talk, though. That felt a little like giving in to the situation.

“Do you like coffee?” she asked. She had an accent he hadn’t expected, but it was similar enough to the strongman’s that he had no real trouble following it. He nodded and she smiled at him, pulling down a second mug and placing it beside the first. He hadn’t even noticed her starting any coffee. “So, I’m Nat. Don’t worry if you forget everyone’s names at first. There _are_ a lot of us.”

He shrugged again, wondering how long he could get away with that before someone got mad about it.

Clint’s teacher wouldn’t have let him get away with it.

Then again, his teacher was currently in jail, so maybe that wasn’t a good barometer for what was normal.

“I’m sure Bucky already told you, but it really isn’t so bad here. I’ve been in bad places before. So have the twins. Phil actually wants to help,” Nat said, reaching for a glass pot and pouring two mugs of coffee. Clint sniffed the air. that smelled different, better than the coffee at the circus.

She sat across from him and slid one of the mugs over the top of the table. He caught it easily and inhaled, followed by a careful sip.

Her eyebrows went up as she watched. “Careful, that’s pretty hot,” Nat said. 

Clint ignored her, eyes going wide at how _good_ the coffee tasted. He gulped down another sip and hummed happily. This was the best coffee he’d ever had. He finished the mug in record time, scarcely noticing how hot it was and flicked a glance over to the pot and back to Nat hopefully. 

She was staring at him open mouthed. “How didn’t you burn yourself?” she asked incredulously, though she did nod at the pot. “Sure, have as much as you want. Though Phil says no coffee after 6, or we won’t sleep.” She rolled her eyes, but it had a fondness to it that Clint didn’t want to examine.

He wasn’t going to be staying. He wasn’t going to get attached to anybody.

Scrambling up, Clint made for the coffee pot and poured another mug, a delighted laugh following him. He leaned against the counter and simply held the mug up, closing his eyes. He planned to savor the second mug.

“Well, guess you like coffee,” Nat said. “Good to know.”

“We’re back!” a voice shouted, jolting Clint in its loudness. The coffee spilled, and he hissed at the hot pain over his fingers, frowning as he set the mug back down and looked around for towels to clean the mess.

“Oh god, are you all right?” Nat was by his side in an instant and he jerked back.

“What’s going on?” Phil asked.

“Clint burned himself,” Nat said. Clint shook his head, wiping his hands with the towel he’d found on the stove door. “You did, I saw you. That coffee was fresh from the pot.”

“Let me see.” Phil reached for Clint and Clint froze. He didn’t offer any resistance when Phil checked his arm over. “Probably not too bad, but let’s run it under cold water anyway. Steve -”

“On it!”

Clint watched in befuddlement as Phil urged him towards the sink, coaxing him to run cold water over his fingers. He shook his head. It didn’t hurt. Not really. He’d worked his fingers (and more) hard to become good enough to shoot. This was nothing compared to the pain he’d gone through to be the best archer in the circus. 

He could deal with it. 

But… this was nice, he thought, as the blonde kid - Steve, apparently, one of his roommates last night - returned with what was evidently a first aid kit.

It was just the 5 of them in the kitchen; Nat nearby, cleaning up the spill on the floor. Steve brought Phil the kit, Phil of course, and the other roommate was sitting down at the table already, looking exhausted and worn out.

A glimpse at the doorway showed that the other kids were hovering and Phil barked behind him and they scattered. Clint let out a breath of relief.

Phil finished with his hands and ushered him to a seat, Nat pushing over a fresh mug.

“Sorry we startled you,” Steve said sheepishly. “Bucky, what do you want?”

“Eggs?” his other roommate, Bucky, said, hope in his voice. 

“Eggs it is! Anyone else want eggs?” Steve looked over at Clint eagerly and Clint shook his head, picking up his spoon and going back to his previously abandoned cereal.

“How’d the doctors go?” Nat asked. And that was the last clear thing Clint got for the next 20 minutes before he slipped out of the kitchen and snuck back upstairs.

* * *

Clint hid upstairs for the rest of the day, debating what to do.

He couldn’t go back to the circus, not after the raid that had disbanded it, arresting more than half it’s members and breaking away the rest. Barney had left him behind, making his escape with all the cash they’d earned, leaving him to get picked up.

Had Barney been a part of it all? Was that why it had been so fast and easy for him to get out of there before the law had come done on them?

Would Barney come back for him?

Surely his brother wouldn’t just _leave_ him, not after all they’d done to stay together to begin with!

He sniffled and rolled into his blanket, facing the wall. It was too soon to panic, he reassured himself. It would take Barney time to figure out where he was. Clint better stay here, make it easier on Barney.

Besides, he had no money, and Phil was too nice. Clint would feel guilty even _trying_ to steal from him. He trailed a hand over the bandages Phil had carefully wrapped around his hands.

He felt, more than heard, the footsteps running up the stairs and he tensed, preparing for the door to fling open and the shapeless noise to follow, but it thundered past his room – not _his_ room, really, it was Steve and Bucky’s, apparently, and he was just crashing there, however temporarily – and he relaxed.

But only for a moment.

There were too many people in this house. No privacy. It was a little bit like the circus in that regard, just way more condensed. But he’d found ways to be by himself at the circus when he wanted, surely there’d be someplace here that he could hide.

Crawling out of the cot, he went over to the window and lifted it, peering out and all around.

The yard wasn’t too terribly big. He could see into all the neighbor’s yards from here without even trying. He blinked, his eye catching on something. The roof, nobody would look for him up there. He shimmied out the window and with all the nimble dexterity growing up in a circus had given him, he easily scaled the side of the house and climbed up onto the roof, edging himself into a stable position and settling in.

He sighed, relaxing more completely than he’d been able to since the night of the raid. Being up high helped. He’d always loved climbing the rigging during setup, or assisting some of the aerials. They’d even taught him a few things.

Clint stayed up there till the sun began to set, watching the goings on of the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for Barney. There were occasional shouts that didn’t make any sense to Clint, so he ignored them, though he was sure the others were looking for him.

Wasn’t his fault if they weren’t smart enough to look up. Phil had to know where he’d come from, right?

* * *

Clint came down for dinner, or - since he didn’t know when dinner even was – he came down when he was hungry. He slid back in through the same window he’d left, startling the two boys whose room it was.

He stood frozen in place as Steve’s jaw dropped.

“Whoa,” Steve said. “Were you on the roof? Is that where you’ve been this whole time?”

Clint shrugged and nodded at the same time. There was no use denying it, and anyway, he didn’t think it likely any of these kids could follow him without using a ladder.

“Good timing,” Bucky said. “Dinner’s in ten.” He didn’t mention anything about Clint’s climbing onto the roof and he wondered if they’d mention it to Phil and if he’d get punished for it.

Clint edged further into the room and sat down on his cot stiffly, eying the two boys carefully, trying to gauge them. They’d been nothing but nice, so far. But he was invading their space. Surely they didn’t really want him here.

Steve moved and before Clint could blink, Steve was sitting on the other end of Clint’s cot. “Do you ever talk?”

“I don’t think he can,” another voice said. Clint whipped around to see the youngest boy, with the strangely silver hair, pushing open the door.

"Yeah, he can," Bucky said. “He..." He stopped abruptly; jaw clacking shut as his face flushed red and he looked over at Clint in apology.

“Maybe his voice is broken. Like, from smoke inhalation, or something? I bet he was in a fire, and that’s why he’s here,” the kid said.

Clint glared. He hated it when people talked about him like he wasn’t even there. It was bad enough when the adults did it, but he was finding he really didn’t like it when his own peers and younger did it.

Of course, he _could_ just speak up. That would solve the problem right there, but his throat had frozen shut. Besides, he’d resolved not to.

“Leave him alone, Pietro,” Bucky said, his voice was gruff. “Sometimes people don’t want to talk. It’s none of our business. When he’s ready, he’ll talk.” Bucky turned away from Pietro and looked at Cling, “Right?”

Right. Maybe. He wasn’t sure anymore. He shrugged, then nodded, looking down at his hands, at the bandages, already fraying at the edges because of his climb. He picked at the cloth and tuned them out as they talked.

It wasn’t hard to do. Pietro talked so quick and had little regard for if other people were already talking or not. Clint would have lost the thread quickly, even if he’d been interested in what the kid was saying.

He looked up when everyone started moving and Bucky paused beside him, looking down at Clint. Pietro had already bounded out of the room and Steve was waiting in the doorway. “Dinner time, if you’re hungry.”

Clint stood and brushed at his pants, following Steve, Bucky and Pietro down for dinner.

* * *

Phil ambushed him _after_ dinner.

At least most of the other kids had gone off to do other things, though Bucky was still sat at the table, picking slowly at his food. Steve and Nat were sharing dish duty chore while Bucky sat stiffly, occasionally dropping his fork to rub at his arm. Clint idly wondered what was wrong with him, as he cleared away his own dishes, and that’s when Phil cornered him.

Not physically, at least, though Clint had had his fair share of that in the very literal sense quite often over the years.

“Fury called,” Phil said. “Said he finally found your records.”

Clint frowned. What records?

“How bad is it, your hearing?”

His blood ran cold. Oh. _Those_ records. He looked away, biting his lip. 

“I’ll set up an appointment with Doctor Cho,” Phil said, as if Clint had answered him. “I think you’ll like her.”

Clint looked back at Phil, still frowning. Why would he bother? “Don’t - “ Clint’s mouth opened and choked out the first word before he realized he was gonna talk. Around him, from the corners of his eyes, he noticed the others had stilled. He cleared his throat and raised his head determinedly. “Don’t waste your money on me.”

“It’s my money, I think I can waste it however I choose, and I'm choosing to help you,” Phil said. “And I don’t see that as a waste.”

Eyes stinging, Clint looked away again.

“When’s the last time you saw a doctor, Clint? Any doctor?” Phil’s question was far more gentle than Clint was used to hearing any adult talk. The last time was…

He shrugged, cutting off the train of thought, the old, old memory before it could fully form. “Dunno.”

“Right, we’re going to fix that. Do you know ASL?”

Clint tilted his head. “ASL?”

“Sign language,” Phil explained patiently.

Oh. Was that what it was called? “Some,” Clint said cautiously. Just like hearing aids, sign language had been discouraged by his father and the foster families he and Barney had wound up with before running away to the circus hadn’t bothered to learn. Neither had most of those in the circus, though he and Barney had tried.

Phil nodded, as if that didn’t make Clint broken. “Right, I’ll find an ASL teacher for you, and I’ll talk to the kids, let them know. The school, too.”

“Why?” he asked. What difference would it make?

“So we can make accommodations for you. You won’t be able to learn very well if you can’t hear the teachers.”

Clint shook his head again. He wasn’t going to be staying. He wasn’t worth all this. Barney would find him, and they’d leave. They’d made it work before; they could do it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint disappeared again after dinner and Bucky decided to give the other kid some space. He’d looked more than a little confused and conflicted, like he couldn't understand why Phil - or anyone, for that matter - would give him the time of day.

Bucky and Steve both had seen that look a few times before. Whether Clint would come around or not, was really up to Clint. And Bucky wasn’t all too sure Clint was going to be sticking around long enough to find out how good a place this could be for him, not after what he’d said last night. 

Which were the only words he’d said until just now. Steve hadn’t even believed Bucky that Clint _could_ talk.

Bucky wasn’t much up for socializing, his arm still bothered him too much, so he headed straight up to his and Steve’s - and Clint’s, now too, he supposed - room after dinner.

Clint wasn’t in sight, but before he could do more than wonder about that, Steve slunk in behind him and looked around for himself.

“Think he's up on the roof again? That has to be where he’d been. That’s not really safe. We should tell Phil.”

“Like you wouldn’t do that yourself if you thought you could make it,” Bucky said, easing himself down onto his bed with a sigh. His guitar stood on a stand in the corner and he looked at it wistfully. It was part of his physical therapy for his hand, for his fingers, one of the things he really enjoyed.

But today it was too much.

Steve didn’t argue. He knew Bucky was right. Out of everyone there, he took the most risks. He drove Bucky up a wall.

“Think my arm will ever get better?” Bucky asked, flexing his fingers and wincing.

“It’s gotta, right?” Steve said, dropping onto the bed beside Bucky. “It’s been years since the accident and you’ve had a million surgeries since then.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Bucky said gruffly. The accident that messed up his arm was what had orphaned him and Steve to begin with. They’d been so lucky Phil had taken them in. Nobody had wanted either of them, much less both of them, not when Steve was sick all the time - not so much anymore, thank God and Phil - and Bucky was looking at years of surgeries and rehabilitation.

Steve flopped back onto Bucky’s bed with a quite oomph. “Where do you think he came from?”

“Why does he have to come from anywhere? Leave him be,” Bucky grumped.

“He’s not here,” Steve pointed out. “So I’m not bothering him, I’m bothering you. You can’t tell me you’re not curious?”

“Of course I am, but how would you feel if someone was speculating why you’d come to live here?”

Steve snorted. “No speculation necessary. Everyone knows our story.”

“Doesn’t make it right to poke our noses in his,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve said. “How much company are you up for?”

“To be honest, not much right now,” Bucky said.

Climbing off the bed, Steve got to his feet. “Right. Message received. I’ll go bother Sam.”

“You do that,” Bucky said. “I’ll be sure to ignore any and all shouting that’ll cause.”

Glaring at him, Steve flipped him off on the way out of their room.

Bucky chuckled.

* * *

A couple of days passed, and Clint didn’t settle in any more than he had the first day. He still refrained from speaking unless absolutely necessary (and even a few times that it was) and he hadn’t been enrolled in school yet either.

Phil had decided that getting his hearing taken care of was of the utmost importance, else he wouldn’t do well in school anyway.

He was probably right, but Bucky didn’t think isolating him was helping Clint settle in. Then again, Phil probably thought Clint was spending more time with Steve and Bucky than he actually was, since neither of them had snitched about Clint’s tendency to climb out the window and onto the roof.

Outside of Clint, things were quiet.

A little quieter than Bucky liked, if he were honest. It had been over a week since Steve last stepped between a bully and a littler guy, prompting Bucky to back him up. It’d been at least 5 days since Sam’s last prank or one of Pietro’s death-defying feats. Probably almost as long since Bucky caught wind of another scheme of Nat’s…

Frankly, he was sure everyone was on their best behavior because there was a new kid.

It would never last.

There was only so long before Steve or Nat cheated at cards again and a brawl almost broke out. But for now, things were quiet and Bucky was going to enjoy it. His arm was bothering him a lot these past few days, but the doc hadn’t been able to do much for him except to make sure it wasn’t _actually_ getting worse.

* * *

Bucky stirred, slotting his eyes open in time to see Clint slipping out of bed, grabbing his bag and tiptoeing out the door. Clint didn't react when he stepped on the creaky floorboard right by the door and the door clicked shut behind him.

“He's pretty quiet,'' Steve said softly, his voice registering surprise. Bucky grunted, rolling away from the door. “You ain't gonna go after him?” Steve sounded, if possible, even more surprised.

“If he wants to leave, I say we let him. Making him stay will only make the rest of us miserable,” Bucky grumbled.

“Uh huh,” Steve said doubtfully. “You don't really believe that.”

 _Fuck._ Steve was right. Bucky rolled back over and off the bed, standing with a sighing groan. 

“Want me to go with you?”

“Nah. Too many people and he'll just feel cornered,” Bucky said, padding out the door after Clint. “Stay here, Rogers. I mean it.”

He found Clint in the kitchen, bag open on the table, obviously looking for provisions.

“So, you _are_ leaving,” Bucky said, gauging how loud he spoke and hoping the kid would hear him without Bucky waking up the rest of the house. “Took you long enough.”

Clint jumped and whirled. “So what if I am? You gonna stop me?” he asked belligerently. 

Bucky shrugged. “Can't make you stay, even if I think you should. But I _can_ help with food at least,” he said pushing his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and the cabinets. “I'll make you a few sandwiches for the road.”

Clint was quiet a good long few moments before he spoke again, his voice uncertain and small. “You shouldn't go through the trouble.”

“Nah, it ain't trouble, I like to take care of people. Besides, we’re all trouble here,” Bucky said, laying out the bread. “Mustard or mayo?”

Clint frowned at him, not answering the question so Bucky decided to make half with mayo, half with mustard. Maybe he’d toss in one with both. “You're not trouble.”

“You ain't sticking around long enough to see Steve on a crusade or one of Pietro’s stunts. Besides, Phil doesn't seem to think we are.”

Clint snorted. “Coulson’s just in it for the money. They all are.”

Bucky saw doubt on Clint's face even as he shook his head. “Maybe some of the families are, but not Phil. You been in the system long?”

“Which time?” Clint asked evasively.

“You got out?” Bucky asked, surprised. He continued to make the sandwiches, moving slow, drawing out the conversation. This was progress. This was the most Clint had talked yet.

Clint shrugged. “Depends on your definition of got out. Barney and I found something better. Cops didn’t agree.”

“They never do,” Bucky said, nodding. “So… you ran away. I get it. Me and Steve almost did too, before we came here. Only thing that stopped us was… “ he gestured at his arm with the knife. “I was still recovering from the accident and Stevie’s health was poor a lot when we were kids.”

As if they weren’t still kids.

“Are you and Steve brothers?” Clint asked, curiosity on his face for the first time maybe. “You don't _look_ like brothers.”

“Well, technically, I guess we’re cousins - um… like, twice removed, or something? I don't really know. I know our moms were cousins and they grew up together, so we did too. When my ma died, Steve’s mom took us in, raised us as brothers and then the accident happened,” Bucky paused, hearing a sound. 

Clint was looking at him sympathetically. “That’s... that’s how me and Barney - he’s my brother - we lost our parents in an accident. That's how we got into foster care the first time. Didn’t think anybody could be worse than my dad until then. And then Barney overheard they were gonna separate us, send us to different families. So, we left.”

Bucky nodded, taking in that offhand comment about the other kid’s dad without reacting. Clint definitely had trust issues. Seemed like they started early. Poor guy.

“Yeah, I get that. They talked about splitting us up, too. Cause finding a place for one damaged kid was hard enough, one that was sick all the time too? So yeah, we thought about it, almost did it too. Not sure we would have made it, as bad off as we were then, but Steve is stubborn,” Bucky said. “But then luckily, we didn’t have to.”

“Because of Coulson,” Clint said skeptically.

“Phil. Yeah. He’s a good guy, Clint. You should give him a chance.”

Clint shrugged, pulling in on himself again. “Can’t stay. My brother - “ Clint cut himself off.

“What happened to him?”

“Dunno. He shoulda found me by now, unless somethin’s wrong.”

“That’s why you’re leaving?” Bucky asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay in one place? Or ask Phil?”

Clint shook his head, his fingers moving nervously on his leg. “That wouldn’t be a good idea but maybe… maybe I’ll stay. For now.”

“Well, okay, but here - “ Bucky handed Clint a sandwich. “We don't want these to go to waste.”

Clint looked at the sandwich in Bucky’s hand and he looked so goddamned lost that Bucky knew he was screwed.

Behind Clint, he could see Phil, leaning on the doorjamb. Phil smiled sadly, nodded, then turned and left before Clint could spot him. Bucky knew that Phil would snag him later to talk, but would let him and Clint be for now.

But for now, Clint was staying. That was progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rebloggable Tumblr Post here](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/616405903244197888/phils-kids-marvel-ships-none-rating-g-square)


End file.
